


Subconscious Unleashed

by GrumpyBox



Series: Subconsious Unleashed Universe [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Gen, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-01-20 03:23:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 11,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12424062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyBox/pseuds/GrumpyBox
Summary: This is based on a tumblr post.What would happen if Brainstorm created an invention that released everyone's subconscious emotions? What would happen if he accidentally turned on the device?Find out in this edition of "Sad Angsty Robot Who Just Need A Hug".Basically Brainstorm creates a device that makes everyone's subconscious emotion their primary emotion. So we have an Angry Rung, An extremely depressed and violent Whirl, A sad Rodimus, A Drug-Addict Drift... you get the idea.





	1. The Beginning of The End

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how many chapters I'll make for this, but if it gets enough comments and likes then i'll continue.

Brainstorm had done it again.

It started off somewhat logical like with the time machine briefcase, then escalated into the sparkeater gun, the mundane thought pill, and countless more useless and obscure inventions. But this was too far. When Perceptor tried to warn Rodimus about Brainstorm's latest invention, his concerns had fallen on deaf audio-receptors. It's not that Rodimus didn't care about what Perceptor had to say-- actually he cared a lot about what everyone had to say-- but the Lost Light had grown accustomed to the strange antics of their resident "nutty professor" and left Brainstorm to his own devices. It wasn't until the halls of the ship began ringing with screams that everyone realized something was wrong. 

The day had started off like any other. Ultra Magnus had debriefed the crew on what star systems they were approaching on their quest to Cyberutopia and how to interact with natives on foriegn planets, Megatron had completed his weekly drills and exercises ( he liked to run a tight ship apparently), and Rodimus was continuing his sword fighting lessons with Drift. Everything was completely normal... except for the screaming. 

Rodimus and Drift ended their sword fighting session early and rushed down the now crowded corridors of the Lost Light towards Rungs office. They were about to break down the doors when an infuriated Rung broke them down himself.

"Listen up! Every last one of you mother fragging pieces of slag!"

The hallway was completely silent. No one had ever heard the psychiatrist curse nor had they ever seen him angry.

" MY. NAME. IS.RUUUUUUNG! If I hear any, and I mean anyone, call me anything other than my Primus given name, I will send that fragger to the pit myself. Ya got that glitches!"

Nobody moved. Rodimus' mouth hung slightly ajar, Drift had dropped the sword he was wielding, all the bots that were in the hallway didn't dare breathe. The psychiatrist wasn’t necessarily intimidating… usually… but in that moment it was as if Megatron was pointing his fusion cannon square at every bots faceplate. Rung’s optics screamed murder to anyone who dared defy him, his servos were clenched firmly in a fist.

"Rung?", Rodimus barely whispered his name. " Are you alright? We're sorry. We didn't mean to upset you. It's my fault. If I were a better captain I'd ensure that no one teases you like that. I know better. I'm so sorry Rung."

"What are you talking about? It's everyone's fault because everyone does it! Stop taking responsibility for everyone's actions, not everything is your fault!"

" You're right Rung. I'm sorry."

"Primus! Stop saying you're sorry!"

" I'm sorry."

"Rodimus, what is going on!" Drift finally cut in. The crowd that had once blocked Rung's office now dissipated and the three mechs were all that remained. Rung and Rodimus turned to face the handsome mech and were shocked to see the typically composed samurai trembling and scratching the joints of his servos.

"W-What's wr-wrong Drift? What d-did I do?" Rodimus voice was full of static and his optics began to fill with coolant. Rodimus couldn’t understand what was happening. Just a few kliks ago he was bravely fighting against Drift in a fierce sword training exercise, but now he felt as defenseless as a cyber-kitten stuck on a high rise.

"Shut up, it obviously wasn't you!" Rung furrowed his brow at Rodimus then returned his attention to Drift. Drift’s optic were hazy and scanned the hallway rapidly as if searching for something. Rung quickly ran through his processor in search of an explanation for the symptoms Drift was displaying. It wasn’t long before he found the file he was looking for. Rung’s angry expression softened and fell. His faceplate grew dim as he realized what was happening to Drift.

“Rodimus. We have to find Ratchet...now!”


	2. An Unusual Diagnosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out what's going on with Drift. Is there a cure. Probably not.

The med-bay was quiet.

The low hum of the computer and the Lost Light’s ex-CMO shuffling through medical equipment were the only sounds to be heard. Ratchet liked the med-bay like this. When it was quiet he could collect his thoughts, read up on advancements in the medical field, and even plop down on a medical berth and get some well-deserved recharge (although he would never admit to doing that). However, today Ratchet didn’t feel his usual calm. He was anxious. Very anxious. He worried about the crew often and would review everyone’s medical files to ensure that they were up to date on their vaccines and weren’t suffering pain or discomfort from any pre-existing illnesses. He had re-examined Swerve twice after the rust incident, and Tailgate four times after he almost de-activated. Ratchet’s present anxiety was like none he had ever felt before. Thoughts of possible illnesses and diseases the crew could be suffering were overwhelming Ratchet’s processor. He panicked when the idea that he may not be able to treat the crew crossed his processor. The sound of the med-bay doors swinging open forced Ratchet out of his thoughts. He turned and was stunned to see a surprisingly angry Rung leading Rodimus who was carrying some other bot in his arms. He froze when he recognized the mech.

“What happened to Drift!” Ratchet dropped the medical supplies that were in his servos and rushed over to convulsing mech. Drift’s optics were wild, practically bulging out of his helm. He kept scratching his digits and forearm as if there were scraplets underneath his plating. Ratchet had seen Drift like this before….no….it couldn’t be.

“I think we both know what’s going on here,” Rung cut through Ratchet’s thoughts. The medic had completely forgotten that Rung and Rodimus were still in the room. He also hadn’t realized that his jaw had dropped to the floor when he saw Drift.

“I promise I didn’t do it. I know everyone thinks everything is my fault but I really didn’t do anything. I swear,” Rodimus placed Drift down on a med-berth and stood beside the berth with his head hung low. He was practically cowering by the berth… was he cowering?

“For the last time,” Rung began,” shut. The frag. Up.”

“Is Drift going through…. Withdrawal? Wait a second…. Did you just curse?” It took a lot to surprise Ratchet, they had just done it twice in one day. “This isn’t possible. Drift hasn’t touched any drugs in years… millions of years. There’s no way he could be going through withdrawal right now.” Ratchet’s anxiety began to creep up on him again. He tried to force the thoughts of his inadequacy as a medical officer down. He was failing. 

“I should have been a better friend to Drift. If I were a better friend he wouldn’t have started doing drugs again. Maybe I’m the reason he started doing drugs again….”

“Rodimus,” Ratchet turned to face Rodimus. He was definitely cowering. “ Listen to Rung and “shut the frag up’. We don’t actually know if Drift has been doing drugs. There aren’t any circuit boosters available on board or else we ALL would have known he was on drugs. Let me run some tests to verify his condition.” Ratchet’s medical coding was beginning to take over. He still struggled to hold down his anxiety as he began to run his tests on Drift. A small servo slammed down on his rotator cuff. It hurt like the Pit. He turned to face the offending mech and was once again surprised (three times today) to be faced with an angry Rung.

“Calm down and mech up.”

“Excuse me?” Ratchet realized that Rung was trying to put a Cybertronian twist on the human phrase, but it still sounded odd coming from Rung. Rung was always so careful with his words.

“You’re freaking out over here as if you’ve never handled a patient before. You know what you’re doing. Stop quivering like a sparkling, that’s Rodimus’ job apparently.”

Ratchet had realized he was shaking but had hoped it wasn’t visible to the other mechs in the room. 

“Is it me Ratchet! Am I the reason why you can’t operate on Drift properly. I’m so sor-”

“Shut up yah fraggin’ sparkling. Primus!” Now Ratchet had heard Rung curse twice. The beeping of the medical computer brought Ratchet back to the true task at hand. He was puzzled by the results.

“Well I have good news and I have bad news…. I think?” Ratchet scratched the back of his helm as he tried to make sense of the data. It didn’t make any sense. Nothing was making any sense today.

“What is it doctor?” Rung actually sounded like his normal self when he said that.

“Well. The good news is that Drift hasn’t been doing drugs. The bad news is that he is going through severe withdrawal for no apparent reason.”

“You can fix him can’t you?” Rodimus piqued up again. He seemed very cautious to speak.

“ I thi-”

Suddenly the med-bay doors swung open and five mechs were hauled in. Some were missing limbs, another had been ripped in half (not lengthwise thank Primus), and another was suffering from an exposed and dimming spark.

“By the Allspark!”


	3. Crime and Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Ultra Magnus loses his slaggin' mind. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys want to see more of Drift or do you want to see what happens to other Lost Light members.
> 
> Comment below.

Ultra Magnus was re-arranging his pen collection when he heard the disturbance. It seemed as if he could never find peace and quiet on this ship. Ever since he was revealed to be Minimus Ambus, the crew’s respect for the ex-Duly Appointed Officer of the Tyrest Accord had dwindled and was almost indiscernible. The crew used to avoid his gaze when he walked down the halls of the Lost Light (that wasn’t a good thing necessarily but it did show his authority over the crew). Now they walked up to him casually, called him nicknames (to be honest he did like being called Mags), and even pulled pranks( he HATED pranks). They would tease him as if he was just “one of the guys” or (to make matters worse) pull dangerous and reckless stunts thinking he would “let it slide”. Ultra Magnus had had enough of the crew’s behavior (even if Minimus Ambus secretly enjoyed the “friendship”. Maybe if he was harder on the crew they would respect him again. He just needed to be stricter….

The disturbance, he soon realized was the sound of breaking metal, had grown louder. Ultra Magnus slowly rose from his desk and un-subspaced a datapad. He had already begun writing up the offending mech when he stepped into the hallway. He was on offense number 37 when he finally looked up from the datapad at the carnage that lay before him. Somewhere amongst the pool of stray energon and recklessly tossed bodies stood a trembling Rewind. Ultra Magnus carefully stepped over the barely functioning mechs (he didn’t want any energon staining his pedes) and crossed over to where Rewind was standing. “I will need to confiscate your video camera Rewind. I need to see exactly what happened in order to-”

“I did it.” Rewind almost passed out when he said the words. Ultra Magnus looked down in disbelief. Then, all of a sudden, the strangest thing happened. He began to giggle. No, not chuckle or laugh….giggle. Rewind couldn’t help but tremble even more at the sound of Ultra Magnus’ giggling, it was completely unsettling. The mech could barely even smile when he was happy let alone laugh. Rewind may have heard him cough once at a joke Swerve made back at the bar, but this was too much. “W-what’s so funny?” Rewind finally found the strength to speak. The ex-Duly Appointed Officer of the Tyrest Accord wiped some stray coolant from his optics.

“It’s - teehee- it’s just that, there’s- teeheehee- there’s no p-possible way that that -teehee- you could ever have killed these mechs!” Ultra Magnus’ sides hurt from the strain of suppressing his giggles. The act was so foreign to him he could barely stand up straight. “You! A mini-con! Murder five- wait a second- one, two…., five… seven bots! What did you do? Use Tailgate’s ‘finger-poke of doom’?!?” 

“ But it’s the truth! Look! I’m turning myself in.” Rewind held out his servos to Ultra Magnus to be cuffed, but the officer slumped down on the floor giggling like a maniac.

“Ok, ok Rewind,” Ultra Magnus said when his fit was over. “Why did you murder these mechs?”  
“First off, they’re not dead they’re still venting; second, I did it because they’re too close to Chromedome.” This caught Ultra Magnus’ attention.

“What?” Ultra Magnus finally got off the floor.

“I was afraid Chromedome was going to leave me for one of them so I attacked them all. See all of them are bots who are close to him.” Ultra Magnus looked at the bots who littered the floor. He memorized the behaviors and mannerisms of all personnel aboard the Lost Light. He knew who was friend with whom, what their favorite activities were, and what crimes they were most likely to commit. He examined the bots carefully then turned back to Rewind.

“ Are you slaggin’ with me?” That was unexpected.

“W-what!?!” Rewind had heard Ultra Magnus slip an occasional light curse here or there, but this was Rodimus level cursing. “Did you just curse?”

Did he just curse? The ex-Duly Appoint Officer of the Tyrest Accord was never supposed to curse, but Ultra Magnus began to feel a great struggle within himself. The slag (excuse his Cybertronian) everyone put him through was unbearable. No matter what he did, the Lost Light crew always found a way to unnerve him or undermine his position as Second-in-Command. Maybe it was about time to “ruffle some feathers” as the humans liked to say.

“Ultra Magnus? Are you still there?” Rewind began trembling again. A silent aloof Ultra Magnus was worse than a giggling one.

“You think you can prance about my ship and murder anyone you want?” Ultra Magnus’ tone was cold and deadly. Rewind almost leaked Energon.

“T-th-they’re not dead. I s-swear.” Rewind held up his hands defensively as Ultra Magnus began to corner him in the wall. “W-we j-just need t-to send them t-to the med-bay.”

“Or I can beat the living slag out of you right now.”


	4. To Right A Rung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brainstorm calls Perceptor "Quark" and other stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it took so long for me to update. I just had my birthday and school has been CRAZY. Anyway, here's a long-ish chapter to make up for a long wait.
> 
> I couldn't decide what to do next. Some people wanted Drift and others wanted Brainstorm, so I did both.

Brainstorm thought if he hid in the supply closet then no one would find him. If he just stayed still enough then maybe he could wait out the effects of his subconscious projector ray and everyone would just forget he existed. He was wrong. The doors to the closet flung open. Brainstorm didn’t dare open his optics. He prayed to Primus it would be Nautica who opened the closet. No. Brainstorm begged Primus that it would be Nautica. It wasn’t Nautica. The EM field felt surprisingly soft and he turned to face a slightly irritated Perceptor. “Brainstorm what have you done?” Perceptor knew exactly what Brainstorm had done, primus he was the one who had warned Rodimus about Brainstorm’s invention in the first place. Regardless, Perceptor had expected a lot more from the sometimes reckless scientist and couldn’t help feeling slightly hurt by his lab-mates behavior. Brainstorm was practically shaking in the small supply closet. Primus, he must really not know how to fix this. Perceptor knew that the only way to fix this situation was to keep the scientist calm. He couldn’t risk a bad situation such as this one getting any worse. “Come on out of the closet Brainstorm. I have an energon cube. Let’s just sit down and talk about this.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Welp, that’s the last one.” Ratchet cleaned off his energon stained hands and began to reassemble his tools. “Now, I just have three questions. Number one:how the frag did this happen, two:how the frag did this happen, and three: how the frag did this happen?”

“We may have made a stupid joke while in the bar.” Trailcutter fingered the freshly soldered metal absentmindedly. “ Who know how I get when I’m drunk. A few punches will sober me up faster than -”

“I don’t care about if you were drunk or not!” Ratchet interrupted. “Those weren’t a few punches, that was a near death experience!” Ratchet stopped himself before he could continue his rant. His vocal processor was glitching and the other bots in the room had definitely noticed. Rung was casting him a worried look and he DEFINITELY didn’t like others worrying about him. Ratchet almost hated that more than bots knowing how much he cared.

“Who did this to you?” Rodimus finally sounded like a competent captain. He had been sobbing in the corner of the room for the past hour.

“It’s okay Rodimus,” Blaster put his hands up defensively. “It was really our mistake.”

“No!” Rodimus bolted up from the floor defiantly. “I’m the captain of this ship. Your safety is my responsibility. If you get hurt it falls on my helm. Anyone who who causes you harm will face my wrath.”

The other bots looked at each other nervously. Riptide finally stood up from his med-berth. “Okay Rodimus-”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Listen Quark, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen!”

“First off my name isn’t Quark,” Perceptor took off his monocle and cleaned it for what felt like the millionth time since Brainstorm came out of the closet. “Second, I know that you never meant for this to happen. We need to find a solution to this before someone gets hurt, and by someone I mean you.” 

“I know Quark, and I didn’t mean to fail you again but-”

“I’M NOT QUARK!” Perceptor was holding the bridge of his nasal passage like the humans he had seen in movies. “Brainstorm, I need you to focus! I need you to-WHAT THE FRAG ARE YOU DOING!!!!!”

“What’s wrong Quark? I thought you liked it when I did this.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Whirl did what!?!” Ratchet could barely compose himself. He was visibly and audibly shaking -- he really needed to get his joints oiled-- and had knocked his tray of medical syringes off of a nearby table.

“Honest to Primus doc, we ain’t making this up.” Trailcutter placed his servo bove his spark innocently. The other bots toyed with their digits nervously, still shaken from the beating they’d been dealt.

“We have to do something,” Rodimus stood up ready for a fight. His voice was stable and revealed none of the fear and anxiety he had displayed earlier. He was about to head for the med-bay doors when a voice called for him.

“Please don’t leave me Roddy?” Drift’s voice was uncharacteristically shaky. He shuddered as he sat upright and turned towards Rodimus.

“Drift is right Rodimus. You shouldn’t leave him. He truly needs you right now.” Rung sat on a stool near the med-bay monitor cleaning his glasses. He was furiously wiping away a persistent smudge. “Whirl is the only patient I ever failed to help, this is my fault…. I have to right my wrongs.” Rung put his glasses back on and looked at the solemn faces of those around him. Rung never voiced his own personal grievances, he felt oddly comforted by the concerned looks his friends were giving. Rung sat up and turned to Ratchet who had finally put the syringes back on the table. “I’m going to Swerve’s to put an end to Whirl’s reign of terror. If I’m not back in 3 hours then come at your own risk.” Rung was already halfway out the door before Ratchet could even try to protest.

“Good luck Rung,” Ratchet sighed. Ratchet was about to start cleaning more medical supplies when a horrible clang disrupted his train of thought.

“Oh fraggit!” Rodimus was trying his best to hold Drift down, but the samurai easily overpowered him. Drift was frothing at the mouth and was tearing the cabinets of the med-bay apart. 

“Circuit boosters! Circuit boosters! Circuit boosters!”


	5. A Spark Deferred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see Ultra Magnus again, and he’s no longer in the armor. He tried to beat up Rewind but completely fails. Realizes repressed feelings for Megatron.
> 
> Also Dominus Ambus makes an appearance (kind of) and Terminus
> 
> (The title is based on a Langston Hughes poem "A Dream Deferred". So you tell me, does a spark deferred fester like a sore or does it burst?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't like how rushed the previous chapter felt so here's a quality chapter that I made sure to take some time on. I've been waiting to post this chapter for a while so I hope you all enjoy it.

“Or I can beat the living slag out of you right now.”

That was a dumb thing to say, Minimus Ambus scolded himself as he walked down the halls. “Beat the slag out of someone, what an aft.” Minimus Ambus shuddered as he remembered the awkward exchange between Ultra Magnus and Rewind.  
__________________________________________________________________________  
“ ‘Beat the slag out of me’? All you need to do is paint yourself gray and we’ll start calling you Megatron!” Rewind slipped through Ultra Magnus’ grip. The Magnus armor jolted then came to a full stop, expelling Minimus Ambus in the process. Minimus Ambus was trembling on all fours. Did he really seem that much like Megatron. That’s not what he wanted. He just wanted everyone to respect him again. Minimus Ambus looked up at Rewind and was surprised by his expression. Something seemed really off about the mini-con. His servos were trembling mid-air as if he were reaching out to Minimus, the look in his optics were that of a wild turbo-fox. Suddenly, the memory stick grabbed Minimus off of his pedes and pulled him into a long embrace. 

“What the frag!?!” Minimus was shocked. Just seconds before Rewind was telling him off for almost beating him up, now he was embracing him as a lover? Oh frag. In that moment Minimus realized what was going on. He sometimes forgot how much he looked like his spark brother Dominus Ambus. “Listen, Rewind I-”, before he could finish that thought Rewind had removed his faceplate and was passionately kissing - yes I said PASSIONATELY kissing- Minimus. It took a couple kliks for Minimus to regain his composure and wring himself free of the memory stick’s grasp. “Rewind I’m not-”

“Baby I’ve missed you so much!” Rewind was lunging after Minimus who was having a difficult time dodging the mini-con. “I never stopped looking for you. Never! It didn’t matter what anyone told me, I was going to find you even if it killed me.”

“Listen Rewind. You love Chromedome. You loooooove Chromedome- say it with me. YOOOOOU. LOOOOOOOVE. CHROOOOOMEDOOOOOME.”

“But I love you too?” Rewind finally caught Minimus in his embrace again. Primus the minicon had a strong grip. To be honest, Minimus liked being held. It was something he craved but was constantly denying himself. He liked how warm his spark felt when he was in another mech’s arms. Nice big arms. Large silver arms and intense crimson optics. “Oh fraggit!” Rewind had begun nibbling at his neck cables when he was daydreaming. Minimus struggled against Rewind once more. “You love Chromedome! You just murdered a couple mechs because of him!” Minimus gestured to the bots who were still lying in a pool of energon before them.

“They’re not dead sweetie, some of them are still venting. Besides, Chromedome doesn’t mind at all. Actually, he’s very open-minded.”

“Open-minded! Open-fraggin-minded! He’s your fraggin’ conjunx endura.” Minimus pried himself away from Rewind and was smart enough to take a few steps back. “How open minded can he possibly be?”

“Chromedome is great! He’s totally going to love you. Besides he doesn’t mind sharing once in a while, sometimes if we want to spice things up we-”

“NOoo!” Minimus did not want nor need to hear what Rewind was going to say next. “I’m not Dominis I’m Minimus, you don’t love me you love Chromedome, and I don’t love you I love Megatron!!!”

“You love who?!?”

Minimus slammed his hands over his intakes. He couldn’t believe he had said that out loud. He didn’t love Megatron, he didn’t love anybody. Sure, it was nice when he and Megatron got close around Christmastime but that was because of the season. Christmas is a season of…..closeness. He didn’t really think anything of the way Megatron wrapped his large silver servos around his small green midsection, or the way his hands lingered even after they were done decorating the tree. He only looked forward to going to Swerve’s with Megatron to review ship protocols, not because he genuinely enjoyed the mechs company. He didn’t long to be held by Megatron again, and his spark definitely did not skip a beat everytime Megatron responded to his reports. If his mind lingered to Megatron before he recharged it wasn’t a big deal, and if he happened to whisper Megatron’s name when he was overcharged well then….fraggit.

Minimus looked up at Rewind who no longer had that feral gaze in his optics. He calmly walked over to the mech and placed a gentle servo on his shoulder. “Comm link Chromedome to help you clean up this mess and bring these mechs to the med-bay. I have some….personal business to attend to.” Minimus Ambus didn’t wait for Rewind to reply. For the first time in vorns, the autobot code and safety procedures weren’t running through his helm. He didn’t care about the ship report that was due in an hour and forty-five minutes, or to check if Skids had cleaned out the ventilation system he loved to crawl through so much. Instead, his sole desire was to take care of the pressing feeling in his spark that was filling his entire frame with warmth. He knew he had to tell Megatron he loved him.  
_______________________________________________________________________  
Minimus jolted out of his memory when he walked straight into the ex-warlord’s berthroom door. He felt so small and exposed outside of the Magnus armor, but he knew he had to face Megatron as himself and ONLY himself. Minimus vented deeply then knocked steadily on the door. The doors to the berthroom slid open and the light of the hallway crept into the dark berthroom. Minimus peered in hesitantly and faintly recognized the shape of an ex-miner seated on the berth. He walked into the room as quietly as he could and turned to face the stoic figure. He still couldn’t make out the face of the ex-warlord but decided to proceed regardless.

“Hello Megatron,” he began, “I’m sorry if I disturbed you from your rest, but I wanted to have a serious talk with you.” Way to go Minimus, that’s the way to reveal your undying love you someone. ‘Serious talk’ definitely conveys affection. “Over the course of this past year I have grown fond of your company,” ‘fond of your company’ are you fragging yourself, “and have begun to look forward to our meetings.” This is not going well. This is not going well at all. “I have come upon the sudden realization,” SUDDEN, of all words, “ I mean striking realization”, oh you definitely don’t take after Dominus now do you, “I mean….realization that I have a deep regard for you and hope that you have one for me in return.” Bravo you fool, you managed to screw up your confession of love.

Minimus waited for a moment in silence before he was greeted by an unfamiliar dark chuckle. “So you love my Megatron?” The figure rose the berth and stepped into the light.

“Terminus! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you-”

“He’ll never love you. He was never fond of those who rode on the coat-tails of others success. At least your brother made a name for himself and Ultra Magnus died honorably. What have you done except fail as the Duly-Appoint Officer of the Tyrest Accord, get stranded in space with a make-shift crew, and help ruin Cybertron with the rest of your autobot friends?”

“Don’t speak to me as if you’ve ever tasted war.”

“Don’t speak to me like you’re a fully grown mech mini-con.” Terminus shifted his stance and began to tower over the mini-con.

“You underestimate me Terminus. I do not fear you.” Terminus chuckled again. Minimus hated that chuckle. Terminus bent over as if to speak to a protoform.

“Maybe not. But Megatron respects me. I’m not so sure he feels the same towards you.” Terminus straightened himself again and left the room. The doors slid closed, shrouding Minimus in darkness.


	6. Patients

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On way to bar Rung sees Cyclonus running after Tailgate. Tailgate and Rung engage in a fight. Rung must come to terms with his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to repost this because AO3 messed up the order of my chapters.

Rung had barely left when he heard the sound of medical supplies - once again- falling to the ground with a loud clang. Rung ex-vented slowly and looked up as if asking Primus why this ship and its crew were his cross to bear. He loved- NO cared for the crew dearly. He made the mistake of loving a patient once and he wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. He cared for the crew and sometimes he really enjoyed their antics. The problem was that these antics were taxing, even on a mild-tempered mech like himself. Day after day, the crew found new ways to hurt themselves and others- much to the psychiatrist’s dismay. To make matters worse, he always found himself as the butt of their jokes. Wung, Rang, Ring, Wrong, Rooong, Wing, Rug… it seemed as if the list of ways to mispronounce his name was getting longer and longer as the days wore on. The worse thing was when they called him “eyebrows”. He hated being called “eyebrows” more than he hated the crew getting his name wrong. Rung always tried his best to hide his feelings, but his resentment had grown to silent bitterness. He still lov- CARED about the crew….but it hurt.

Rung was about to turn back to the med-bay and assist Ratchet in repairing whatever Rodimus and company had managed to break when he heard the sound of pedes stomping down the adjacent hallway.

 

“Get off my case Cyclonus!”

 

“Tailgate, I care for you deeply and just want to ensure your safety. I love you with all of my spark an-”

 

“I don’t need a fraggin’ baby-sitter Cyclonus, I’m a grown-aft mech.”

 

The usually pleasant Tailgate continued to assault the floor with his pedes as Cyclonus tried  to keep up with the mini-con and maintain a conversation. Cyclonus was failing. Rung watched the scene progress and decided to do what any good psychiatrist would do in that situation…..walk the frag away. 

 

“Go cry to “eyebrows” about it. I don’t give a frag.”

 

Rung froze mid-step when he heard his “nickname”.He turned so hard on his heels he almost fell over, and marched over to the quarrelling couple. He had had enough with people getting his name wrong. This time, someone was going to get hurt.

 

“Well if it isn’t Mr. Bomb Disposal and his Decepticon boyfriend,” Rung made sure to lay the venom on thick, “I heard you required my services.”

 

Cyclonus and Tailgate looked at Rung in disbelief when he approached him.  _ Mr. Bomb Disposal!  _ Well two could play at that game.

 

“Oh, hello  _ Wrong _ . How are your eyebrows feeling today?”

 

“Tailgate, that’s a littl-”

 

Rung held up a servo to silence Cyclonus. Tailgate had asked for this. This was WAR.

 

“They’re great thank you. How are your legs? I’m certain they’re a little rusty after six million years of lying on your back.”

 

“Don’t worry, they get around. But I’m not quite sure I can say the same about you. Aren’t you worried your ark collection will get lonely in your office all by themselves.”

Tailgate really knew how to lay on the sass. Was he always this sassy? How long had he been suppressing his emotions this way? Was this a result of-

 

“Hey eyebrows, stop judging me!”

 

Rung didn’t even realize he had begun diagnosing Tailgate. Old habits die hard.

 

“If I wanted a diagnosis I’d call a  _ real _ psychiatrist like Froid.”

 

That insult hit Rung pretty hard. Half of Froid’s work  _ was _ Rung’s. Tailgate was definitely going to get his aft handed to him.

 

“Tailgate, I don’t believe this kind of behavior is appropriate.” Cyclonus inserted himself into the argument once more. “Rung is our friend and he cares about you.”

 

“Really!? ‘Cause I sure as slag don’t. If Rung wants to diagnose someone he can do it on his boyfriend Skids.”

 

“My what!” Rung felt as if the wind had been knocked out of intakes with that accusation. He cared for Skids deeply, but he had made the mistake of getting too close to a patient once before. He never intended on doing it again.

 

“Oh I’m sorry four eyes,” Tailgate continued his assault, “I guess I found out your big secret. What? Are you going to down this ship too just like -”

 

“Stop!” Rung felt the energon boiling inside of his fuel lines and for a moment all he could see was red. He had done everything physically possible to forget his mistakes, to forget the crash, to forget the beautiful faceplate of the patient he had loved and lost. For centuries, he had suppressed the guilt he had felt from the crash in helping other patients and moving from ship to ship. He thought he could learn to care less and distance himself further from the patients he treated. He was wrong. It seemed as if the harder he tried the weaker he became. Rung stared down at Tailgate, optics dimmed and fists clenched. Everything inside of him wanted to scream out, punch a wall, tear anything apart. Rung was furious. He was furious because he had failed. He had failed at not loving the crew. He loved the crew so much and he hated himself for not seeing Tailgate’s pain earlier. 

 

Tailgate had stood in complete terror as Rung battled with himself internally. He had never seen the psychiatrist so irate and honestly believed he would have to make a break for it and run for his life.

“I’m sorry Tailgate,” Rung whispered.

 

“You’re what?” Tailgate almost feel over when he heard the psychiatrist speak.

 

“I’m sorry. I should have realized how insecure you were earlier. I should have known you were lashing out from panic induced fear. You’ve experienced so much rejection in your life that you’re projecting it onto those around you. You’re afraid of being unloved, so you’ve begun greeting all gestures of love with skepticism and disdain. You’re afraid that Cyclonus will say that he loves you then leave you, you’re afraid that someone will be kind to you then despise you, you’re afraid of being accepted and then being forgotten for another six million years. Did you have any friends before the accident? Did they look for you? I didn’t even bother asking if they were still alive. I should have seen this before. I should have reached out but I didn’t. I’m sorry Tailgate. I’m sorry I failed you.”

 

Tailgate stared up at the orange mech in disbelief. No one had ever verbally described the anxiety he felt so eloquently. He was always so scared that he’d be abandoned again that he did everything to make people like him. He always told stories and jokes at the bar to keep everyone entertained, he was always the first to volunteer on an adventure so that everyone thought he was brave and daring. He didn’t want to be alone again. He had spent six million years being alone.

 

“Is this really how you feel Tailgate?” Cyclonus could barely hide the fear in his eyes. Tailgate couldn’t bear looking at the mech. “Tailgate you know that I love you and that I’m always here for you. I will never leave you nor forsake you. I will tear the sky apart before I let any harm come to you, and I’d rather die than leave you alone.”

 

“I know….and I love you too Cyclonus.”

 

Cyclonus pulled Tailgate into a deep embrace. Rung watched them in silence before turning down the hall and continuing his journey towards the bar. Rung still ached a little, he couldn’t help but wonder how many other mechs were hurting on the inside and hiding their pain. Rung promised himself that after all of this as over, he’d reassess every crew members’ mental health. He never wanted another Tailgate incident again.

 

Rung turned down the next hallway. This hallway was on the outermost part of the ship, and on the right-hand side were floor to ceiling windows. Rung looked out into the expanse of space and stars and couldn’t help feeling much lighter inside. Maybe, it was ok to love your patients.


	7. Patients: Whirl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prelude to Whirl actually going to the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this is a short one. Whirl is going to be in the next full chapter and we might get a fight scene.......might

Whirl had woken up feeling the same way he always did. He never seemed able to sleep off his self-loathing, but he tried anyway. He stalked over to his pile of generic analog clocks. There was a time in his life where people traveled all over Cybertron for his servo-crafted clocks. The elegant sweep of the pendulum, engraved with ancient Cybertronian poems and wishes of health and long life. On the hour, figurines would move and dance about the clock. They retold stories of Cybertron’s past as they chimed folk songs that were now only remembered by bots like Cyclonus. The functionalists always hated his clocks. There was no purpose buying a clock when a mech could refer to their own internal chronometer. All of his clocks were unique and…. special. Everyone was supposed to have their place in society, no one was above their fellow bot. Whirl looked down at his claws, no longer dexterous servos, and kicked the pile aside. He really needed a drink….


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron feels things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we are getting somewhere in the story. The next chapter will deal with some of the neglected characters ( Drift, Brainstorm, et al). The story is out of order in terms of sequence of events, but everything will come together very soon.
> 
>  
> 
> Also I fixed an error that was going on with how the fic was posted. all chapters are in the correct order now

 

             It had been centuries since the last time Megatron had found himself in a bar. He never entered Swerve’s bar, not because he was afraid of the ridicule of the Lost light crew, but simply because he hated drinking. He couldn’t stand mechs like Trailcutter who drank until they were in a stupor, unable to produce coherent sentences. The idea of being vulnerable in the sight of others was a dreadful thought. He recalled getting drunk in front of Starscream once. That was the last time he ever got drunk. He immediately disabled his FIM chip….or so he claimed. The truth was there was no way you could ever permanently disable the chip, but the idea that one could never get drunk removed the joy of drinking and forced sobriety. When he was young he would drink to alleviate the pain of labor. The work of a miner was a thankless job, and the painful wounds that the mines of Messatine left in a mech could not be numbed by the basic medicine. For years, drinking had been his source of relief. He drank after he killed a mech for the first time. After he thought he lost Terminus forever. He drank after his first fight in the Pits of Kaon. To this day, he cannot erase the memory of death leaking into the optics of his first victim. He thought the energex could cloud the image of optics rolling back into the helm of the other gladiator. Energex only intensified the memory. The day Megatron realized he couldn’t drown his sorrows in the triple-filtered liquid he stopped drinking altogether. He searched for new ways to alleviate his pain. Poetry worked for a period of time….or at least, before he became a warlord. He later found that suitable punching bag could do the trick….Starscream had always been a good punching bag. By the time the ex-warlord was Starscream, he looked exactly like how Megatron felt.  _ Pathetic. Weak. Worth-less. _ Those helpless crimson optics would look up searching for a spark of kindness in his. The way Starscream would beg, _“please….please no more…..please”._

 

            “Please ….. no more….”

 

            “What’s wrong bucket-head?”

 

             Megatron looked up from the blood red liquid that swirled around in his glass and at the mech that was now seated beside him. Chromedome stared at him inquisitively while Swerve cleaned shot glasses timidly with his tears. 

 

             “N-nothing.” Megatron looked down and realized his servo was tearing at his chest -plating. Long marks now covered the delicate swirls on his left chest plate.

 

             “Pfft.” Chromedome quickly downed his glass of Rust Sea Rum and tossed the glass back to Swerve. “Fill ‘er up!”

 

              Swerve sobbed incoherently and turned to a back shelf in search of more energex. Megatron decided - against his better judgement- to follow after Chromedome and down his glass. He attempted to slam it down on the counter but the fragile glass shattered into a million pieces.

 

            “What the frag is wrong with you!?!” Chromedome leapt out of his seat and began to pick up pieces of glass off of the floor.

 

             “I’m so sorry,” Megatron shrieked as he bent down to help. With each shard of glass Megatron picked up, he began to see his reflection.  _ Pathetic. Weak. Worth-less. _

 

            “Oh no!” Swerve had finally come back to the counter and saw the mess that was on the floor.

 

_            Pathetic. Weak. Worth-less. _

 

           “Please….no more….”

 

            “Bucket-head over here smashed his glass. What’s gotten into you Megsy besides being a disgusting piece of s-”

 

_             Pathetic. Weak. Worth-less. _

 

_            “Please….no more….,” Starscream was crawling on his servos and knees. He was trying to get away. “Please…..I don’t understand….what did I do wrong….what did I do…..” _

 

_             Pathetic. Weak. Worth-less. _

 

           “Please….no more….”

 

           “What are you babbling on about Megsy? Have you finally graduated from scum of the earth psychopath to complete lunatic?” By this time, the event had garnered a crowd. Trailcutter, Riptide, and Blaster were standing behind Chromedome leering down at Megatron.

 

_            “What did I do wrong….what did I do wrong…. Stop please….no more,” Starscream was dragging his limp body across the control room in an attempt to comm for help. “Why are you hurting….why….why….” _

 

_             Murderer. Murderer. Murderer _

 

            “I-I’m s-so s-ss-sorry,” Megatron finally gurgled out between sobs. Chromedome was about to retort when Megatron lunged at him and plastered him against the floor in an awkward hug. “AH I-I’m s-so sorry I h-hurt y-you!” Megatron shoved his faceplates in the groove of his neck and wept vehemently. The entire bar was silent except for the sound of Megatron’s sobbing, even Swerve had stopped crying. Everyone looked down at Megatron in horror as he continued to weep on Chromedome. “I’m so sorry….I’m so so sorry….”

 

            The doors to the bar burst open and Whirl’s shadow filled the room. A blank yellow optic scanned the room until it rested upon Megatron and Chromedome.

 

            “What the actual frag?”


	9. Love in Hiding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drift is high, Perceptor's in love, and something will go down at the bar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to write a fluffly chapter but then this happened. i guess it's fluffly enough.

 

_ “You’re special- I can tell….” _ The words reverberated within Drift’s helm. Everytime he onlined his optics he could see the bright cyan blue of the young medics.  _ “Get out there and prove me right….” _ Drift licked his glossa again and tasted the thick liquid that clung to his intakes.  _ “....prove me right….” _ The taste was so sweet, it was driving him to ecstasy. The buzz in his helm, the shaking of his servos, he could feel every wire within his circuitry pulse within him. The liquid trickled down his throat, he felt the relief in his spinal cord as he slipped further.  _ “I saved your life today. Whatever happens next is up to you….”  _ The light feeling in his helm began to leave. The tingling across his frame turned to pain. He felt the ground underneath him fade, when he onlined his optics again all he saw was darkness.

 

“How long is Drift going to be like this?” Rodimus left Drift’s semi-conscious side and slowly made his way towards the medic. Ratchet was looking over Drift’s vitals as if his glare could change the readings on the datapad. 

 

“He’s going into extreme relapse. When he got a hold of those sedative pills it sent him straight into a high. The moment he crashes….” the Ratchet’s optics grew dark. He never wanted to see Drift like this. Not again. He always tried not to let on how much he cared for the mech but he was having trouble restraining himself. He could barely keep the hitch out of his voice when he called First Aid and Blades to help him stabilize Drift. Addictions were a horrible thing. They hurt the individual and anyone they cared about. Drift had been clean for so many years, seeing him slip away felt like a dagger in Ratchet’s spark. He looked over at Rodimus and he knew the prime felt the same way. Ratchet didn’t know much about Rodimus and Drift’s friendship, he just knew that if one of them was in pain the other one was in pain too. Ratchet placed a firm servo on Rodimus’ shoulder plating. “Don’t worry. We’ll help Drift, but we have to be strong for him. He’s counting on us. He needs us….”

 

**___________________________________________________________________________**

 

“I’M NOT QUARK! What the frag is wrong with you Brainstorm”. Perceptor was suspended upside down from the ceiling with his arms tied tightly against his chassis. Brainstorm had removed his faceplate and was holding a feather duster in one servo.

 

“Oh stop it Quarky. I know you love a good tickle fight!”

 

“This isn’t a tickle fight if my arms are tied up!”

 

“Well you punched me the last time I tickled you.” Brainstorm tried to give Perceptor the most innocent look he could muster. He even batted his optics.

 

“Untie me this instant and let me down!!!” Brainstorm was driving Perceptor wild….in more ways than one. He was certain that if Brainstorm ever let him down, he’d rearrange the genius scientist’s inner circuitry. What was worse, was that the scientist’s childish nature was turning him on. He truly cared for Brainstorm, but he never felt brave enough to admit it or let it on. He thought that by staying aloof he could repress his feelings, but being tied up in close corners with the mechs of his dreams was really putting a damper in Perceptor’s plans.

 

“Come on Quarkle, let’s have some fun.” Brainstorm playfully lunged at Perceptor, feather-duster in servo.

 

“For the last time Brainstorm, I’m not Quark! I thought after all this time I might have meant more to you…” Perceptor’s voice slipped. If his servos weren’t tied he would have facepalmed. He never wanted to address this. He never wanted Brainstorm to know how he felt. Feelings were irrational- darn it he really sounded like Shockwave saying that- they were oftentimes ill-grounded and easy to change. In science, there was nothing but fact and fiction, true or false, right and wrong. Science was safe. In science, there was nothing to be afraid of except the unknown. Feelings were could not be controlled like an experiment. They could not be contained in beakers and vials, and the mess they left was harder to clean up that copper II fluoride. Feelings were scary...scary?

 

“Quark I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-”

 

“Brainstorm that’s it!” Perceptor’s faceplate lit up and he stared at Brainstorm with an intensity that caused the mech to jump back a little.

 

“Quark? What are you-”

 

“No, I’m not Quark. This whole thing is about fear. All of it. That’s why people are acting out. We’re all afraid of addressing our feelings and our pasts. We spent four million years fighting a war because it was easier to do that than to talk things out and just say how we feel. The only way we can overcome this obstacle is by addressing the root cause of them.”

 

“I’m not certain I foll-”

 

“Brainstorm I love you. I’ve always admired your work and I avoided you because I was intimidated by your intellect and afraid that you could never love anyone more than Quark. Now I realize how wrong I was. Not only are you capable of loving someone more than Quark, but you’re afraid to love someone more than Quark. You’re afraid that if you ever loved anyone more than him, you’d be doing him a disservice. Well Brainstorm, the only person you’re hurting is yourself because you can’t stand to be alone and you deserve to have someone love you. You deserve to have me love you. I’ll never be like Quark, but I promise I can love you the same way he did and ten times more if you just let me.”

 

Brainstorm was frozen. The feather-duster hit the floor with a thud and the two mechs stared at each other in silence. Perceptor wasn’t sure if this revelation had fired Brainstorm’s processor or stopped his spark completely. It took a while before Brainstorm began to untie Perceptor and help him down from the ceiling. Brainstorm took Perceptor’s servos and clasped them within his own, not daring to look up at the other mech. They stood like that for quite some time until Brainstorm finally looked up at Perceptor. He cupped the faceplate of the other mech in the palm of his servo. Perceptor nuzzled his cheek into the warm palm.

 

“I love you too Perceptor.”

 

“I know.”

 

**___________________________________________________________________________**

 

When Drift onlined his optics again he was greeted by a bright light.  _ “....prove me right….prove me right….prove me right….” _

 

“I think he’s finally coming too.” Rodimus exclaimed as he tried his best not to jump up and down on the berth.

 

“Well Brainstorm, it appears that your ‘Re-Subconscious Gun’ actually works,” Ratchet mumbled in slight disbelief. “I’m going to stay here and make sure he maintains this stable condition while the rest of you head down to the bar.”

 

“What’s at the bar?” Brainstorm and Perceptor asked in unisom.

 

“Whirl.”


	10. Filler chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minimus gets coached by Skids on how to confess his love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes....this is filler chapter. I'm gearing up for the bar fight, which is the next chapter. This is some cheesy comic relief to soften you up for the emotional roller coaster that will be the next chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. 
> 
> The advice in this chapter is really bad. I'm no love expert, but don't follow Skids advice.

Minimus knew he had to steel his nerve before finally approaching Megatron. He knew the passcode to everyone’s berth rooms - for security purposes only- and slipped silently into the darkness of Swerve’s berth room. “Where should I look first?” Minimus murmured to himself as he crawled around in the darkness. Minimus began fondling his way around Swerve’s room, precariously picking up objects and cleaning them off. Dust in any form could never be tolerated. He moved slowly across the room until his servos landed and something warm. It was a well-polished metal, smooth to the touch. “What exactly are you hiding Swerve?”

 

“Me.”

Minimus shrieked in fear and tried to escape as two firm servos gripped the sides of his forearms. The lights switched on to reveal a smirking Skids. Skids was beloved by the entire crew, actually he was one of the few mechs that didn’t immediately trigger any of Ultra Magnus’ internal warning displays when they passed in the halls. Skids set Minimus down gently and sat leaned back into a relaxed position in the berth.

 

“So what brings you here partner?”

 

Minimus twiddled his thumbs awkwardly. He hadn’t expected his plan to be a success, but the thought of having to explain himself to another mech wasn’t bolstering his ego. He felt like a sparkling with their servo caught in the energon cube jar.

 

“I was looking for some triple-filtered energex.” he whispered. This revelation peaked Skids’ interest. Everyone aboard the Lost Light knew that Minimus was a lightweight, heck even Ultra Magnus was aware of that and refused to drink light Spritzers when he entered Swerve’s bar.

 

“Why would you want energex? And if you did want energex, why wouldn’t you go to the bar?”

 

“I’m preparing myself.”

 

“Preparing yourself for what?”

 

“Megatron.” 

 

“You’re gonna fight Megatron!?!”

 

“No, I’m not going to fight Megatron you dolt!”Now Skids was royally confused. Minimus Ambus was completely flustered and turning bright pink. Minimus didn’t drink so what in Primus’ name could he be gearing up for? Skids stared at Minimus for a few joors as he contemplated the situation. Minimus could tell he was trying to chanel Nightbeat and solve this mystery. Suddenly, Skids facepalmed and fell back on the berth with a thud.

 

“I see what’s going on here.” Skids had a wicked grin on his faceplate that made Minimus uneasy. “If that’s what you’re trying to do then you’re gonna need some coaching.” Skids crawled underneath Swere’s berth and pulled out a bottle of golden energex. The substance was viscous and hypnotic as small bubbles made their way to the top of the bottle. A sharp fizz escaped the bottle as Skids poured the liquid into to small shot glasses. 

 

“Now. If you’re going to confess your love to Megatron you can’t be a wimp about it. Take a shot. You have to be strong in the face of certain death and not take no for an answer. Take another shot. You have to look ol’ bucket head in the optics and say…. are you still with me?” Minimus nearly blacked out on the floor after the second shot. Skids shook him roughly and helped him sit upright. “You need to focus and stay strong and be persistent. If he shoots you down you need to get back up and keep fighting. Take a shot. Okay, I’ll be Megatron and you’ll be you. Are you with me?”

 

“ _ Y-yuuuuss. _ ”

 

“Good enough.” Skids pulled his shoulder-plates back and put on his best ex-warlord face.

 

“Hello, I’m Megatron. What do you want Minimus Ambus?”

 

“ _GWICVshcvqogwuyoqvcuew_ _o_.”

 

“I said STAY WITH ME! Now….I’m Megatron, what do you want Minimus.”

 

“ _ I- I wan I wannakissyourface _ .”

 

“No thank you Minimus. I am your superior and therefore can not engage in a romantic relationship with you.”

 

“ _ Okay. _ ”

 

“Okay? What do you mean okay?”

 

“ _ That seems reasonable. _ ”

 

“NO! You love him and he needs to know that! Repeat after me: Megatron I love you.”

 

“ _MegatronIloveyou_.”

 

“Good. Now what do you say if he can’t love you.”

 

“ _Ok._ ”

 

“NO! You need to FIGHT for your love. If he says he can’t love you then you need to try harder.”

 

“ _Are you sure about that?_ ”

 

“Of course I’m sure! Here, drink the rest of this bottle. Now go out there and fight for your love.”


	11. Bar Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bar fight begins. How it will end no one knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ARE YOU READY!!!!!!! ARE YOU READY FOR THIS!!!!!!!!!! 
> 
> Sorry it took so long to write this. I've never written a fight scene before, just drama. The action will increase very soon.

Whirl was dripping in their energon. Riptide was normally stupid, but when he walked into the bar he didn’t expect to come face to optic with his stupidity before at least two drinks. The minute Riptide opened his intakes Whirl lost it. 

 

“Hey claws! ‘Bout time you showed u-”

 

And that was all Riptide said before a massive claw was three inches deep into his chassis. Blaster and Trailcutter tried to jump him, but he was burning up inside. Primus- he was so angry right now. Everyone was acting like a fragging idiot.Nautica and Velocity did their best to haul the bodies out of the bar before Whirl could beat them up anymore. Everyone was stupid.He just wanted to have a drink in piece. He just wanted to be left alone. All he wanted was to make clocks….

 

“LOVE ME GLITCH!”

 

The doors to the bar shot open as Minimus Ambus--  _ the frag Minimus Ambus? Where’s Ultra Magnus? _ \-- limped diagonally into the bar.

 

“Mega- hiccup- mega- hiccup- megatron!!!” Minimus hiccuped out as he tried to feel his way around the bar. He blindly went from table to table until he finally tripped over where Megatron was lying. Chromedome took the opportunity to slip from Megatron’s grasp and dart out of the bar before things got any worse. “M-mehfatron,” Minumus stuttered,” ah’vfe got sumptin to say to yooooou.” Minumus held Megatron’s faceplate firmly, and awkwardly, in his tiny grasp. “Yooooou iiiiis miiiiiine.” Megatron and the rest of the bar stared at Minimus in extreme confusion.   
  


“What the frag! Why is everyone acting like a fraggin’ idiot!” Whirl blurted out enraged.

 

“I don’t understand?” Megatron said with raised optic ridges. “What are trying to-”

 

“Yoooo iiiis miiine glitch. Yoooou iiiiis myyyy maaaan. I luuuuuv you.”

 

Megatron stared at Minimus with wide optics still not comprehending what Minimus was trying to say. Finally, everything registered and Megatron cupped Minimus’ face in his servos.

 

“Oh Minimus, I don’t deserve you.”

 

“Oh my god, this is gross. Get a fraggin’ room!”

 

“SHADDAP, I said I love you.”

 

“But you deserve better.”

 

“I said LOVE ME GLITCH!” Minimus slapped Megatron across the face and pulled the mech closer until their fore-helms were touching. “LOVE ME! I need you to love me. I need you….please,” Minimus whispered as he slowly began to sober up. Megatron stared into Minimus’ pleading optics, the sheer intensity of the gaze burning into his processor. As he stared deeper into the mech’s optics, it was as if a cloud was lifted and everything became clear. Everything that Ultra Magnus did, he did out of duty. When he stood as Megatron’s lawyer on Luna 1 he did so because it was his duty. He allowed Megatron to outrank his on the Lost Light and treated the mech with respect because it was his duty. But everytime Ultra Magnus dropped his guard around Megatron, it wasn’t his duty. When they shared jokes in private, it wasn’t his duty. When they complained about the crew with one another, it wasn’t his duty. When they discussed poetry with one another, it wasn’t his duty. When Ultra Magnus put down his armor and was simply Minimus Ambus, it wasn’t his duty. It was his duty to watch Megatron and ensure the safety of the crew. It was never Ultra Magnus’ duty to be his friend. It was never his duty to lov-

 

**BANG BANG BANG**

 

The sound resonated in Megatron’s helm as he watched the pair bright crimson eyes in front of him roll back into their helm. Minimus became limp in Megatron’s arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed the first part of the bar fight. There is more to come


	12. Bar Fight Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bar fight continues. How will it end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are nearing the end of this journey. I really enjoyed writing this and I'm thinking of writing more character based stories in the near future. I encourage you all to read my other fanfic.
> 
> Also 20 points to the person who gets the Spongebob joke.

**BANG BANG BANG**

 

The sound resonated in Megatron’s helm as he watched the pair bright crimson eyes in front of him roll back into their helm. Minimus became limp in Megatron’s arms.

 

“ I’M GONNA START A MUTINY. CALL ME PRIME GLITCHES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” ~~Discount Starscream™~~ Getaway cried as he held out his null-gun defiantly in his servos. A small band of mechs formed around Getaway as he shot a few more rounds at the now unconscious mech. Whirl lost it. It was one thing to see Megatron sobbing on the floor, it was another thing to see Minimus Ambus begging for love and affection, and it was a completely different thing to watch as said mech got shot repeatedly in the back of the helm. All Minimus wanted was to be loved. All Whirl wanted was to make clocks….

 

Whirl’s ~~claws~~ servos moved on their own accord. He hoisted Getaway in the air and unlocked the guns underneath his cockpit.

 

“Is that how you wanna play Getaway? Well why don’t you get a load of this!” The bullets showered down like hellfire upon Getaway’s frame. Atomizer jumped on Whirl in an attempt to thwart the seething ex-Wrecker. He dug his digits underneath Whirl’s frame and tugged at a few exposed seams. Whirl chuckled creepily.

 

“Is that all ya got!?!” Whirl screeched as he ripped off one of Atomizer’s arms and slapped Getaway across the face with it. He threw Getaway onto a nearby table where the wanna-be Prime crashed into a couple of half full drinks. Swerve began crying again.

 

Everyone was stupid, Whirl thought as he threw Getaway and his crew out of the bar. Everyone was stupid. Everyone was…. The sounds of eerie laughter distracted the mech’s train of thought. Whirl looked over his shoulder back to where the ex-warlord and ex-Duly Appointed Officer of the Tyrest Accord were lying. Megatron was hunched over Minimus’ unconscious body....smiling.

 

“You were wrong Whirl….”Megatron barely whispered.

 

“The frag, wrong about what?”

 

“What you said that day in that prison cell. You were wrong. ‘My death won’t mean anything to anyone. Just another dead miner. Another wasted spark who left no trace. Another nobody.’ Here in my arms lies someone who loved me more than I ever deserved. The Duly Appointed Officer of the Tyrest Accord for Primus-sake! In another life, I could have loved him back. If _you_ hadn’t done this to me I could have loved him. _We_ could have been together. I’m the mech I am today because of _you_. A broken tyrant whose servos are stained with the spilt energon of a billion mechs, whose helm is haunted by the cries of his enemies and the innocent. I am what I am today of what _you_ did in that prison cell four million years ago. You can run from me no longer Whirl. Your day of reckoning has come.”

 

Whirl didn’t have time to back away when the first blow came. Megatron’s servo met Whirl’s cockpit and shattered the fragile glass. A roundhouse kick to the helm sent Whirl flying into a nearby table.

 

“DON’T TOUCH ME I’M STERILE!” First Aid cried as Megatron stalked over to Whirl’s semi-conscious frame. Shapes and colors danced around Whirl’s optic as he tried to focus on the ominous frame that was lurching towards him.

 

“So that’s how you want to play, huh big boy?”

 

Whirl sprung back onto his pedes and slashed a claw across Megatron’s chassis with a ferocity that caused sparks to fly. The remaining mechs that were in the bar rushed out leaving only the ex-Wrecker, the ex-warlord, an unconscious Minimus Ambus, and a bawling Swerve.

 

“The one person who loved me is dead.The only person left who cares about me doesn’t know what I really am. When I die I’ll die alone. I wouldn’t have meant anything to anyone. I’m a piece of scum that thought they could become someone. Isn’t that right _Whirl_.” Megatron spat out as he dodged some of the helicopter’s punches.

 

Whirl’s spark was aching inside of him. Why did he have to do that? Why did he have to remind him of the biggest mistake of his life. The Functionalists made him do that. It wasn’t his choice. That wasn’t him. That wasn’t the kind of mech he was. Right? Those weren’t really his words. He said them, but they weren’t from his spark. Megatron enjoyed breaking his enemies physically and mentally. Megatron was just trying to get under his plating. All he wanted was to make clocks….

 

“What?” Megatron’s optics went wide. Whirl didn’t even hear himself when he first spoke, but the words rested heavily in his voice box. He tried again, louder this time, as his audio receptors finally registered what he had said.

 

“I’m sorry Megatron.”

 

The ex-warlord was frozen where he stood. He had suffered under the servos of the mech before. He was completely restrained and defenseless as the once prison-guard beat the scrap out of him. Now he had the audacity to apologize for his actions. He had the gall to look him optic to optic and say those words….words he knew he no longer deserved.

 

“I’m so sorry I hurt you Megatron. I caused this. I’ve tried to blame everyone else but myself for what’s happened in my life. The Functionalists, the war, you. I brought all of this upon myself. This war, this frame, these claws. I-”

 

“I don’t deserve an apology from you Whirl,” the ex-warlord finally spoke. “I was defenseless at the time. Maybe back then I would have loved to hear an apology from you just so I could throw it back in your face, but now I know I don’t deserve it. What I did after that day was done by my own convictions. I chose the path I tread down upon, you weren’t the one that forced me down it. I don’t take enough responsibility for my actions and the deeds I have done, and I don’t do enough to redeem myself of them. I’m sorry Whirl….for laying my burdens upon you instead of myself.”

 

Whirl didn’t know what to say. The two stared at each for a long period of time. Whirl broke the silence with a light chuckle.

 

“Years of therapy and I finally break open. Rung would be proud.”

 

“I am Whirl,” Rung said as he stepped into the soft light of the bar. “I really am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have one last chapter after this. I love hearing from you guys so please comment below.


	13. The Final Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lost Light is finally back to normal....or is it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of Subconscious Unleashed. Thank you so much for your support.Over 1,000 pageviews is incredible. I will definitely be writing more fiction for these characters in the future.
> 
> I may do ONE extra chapter, but only if enough of you request it ok. If you want ONE extra chapter please comment below

 

The scent of freshly soldered metal drifted in the air as Terminus entered the med-bay. Ratchet had just finished applying the final welds to Minimus’ helm when the old miner rested a heavy servo upon the medic’s shoulder-plate.

 

“May I have a word with Minimus please?” the miner asked politely.

 

This had become the norm for the past few days. Bots were quietly and privately exchanges words of gratitude, affection, and repentance after the effects of Brainstorm “Subconscious Gun” had worn off. It seemed as if everyone on board went crazy when they were forced to face their feelings, even Getaway had screamed something about a mutiny. Millions of years in war had forced the Autobots and Decepticons to ignore their emotions and focus purely on survival. Now that the war was over, feelings could be explored and expressed….just maybe not as openly as they were during this incident. Ratchet gave the two bots some space and walked down the corridors of the large spacecraft. It wasn’t long before he found himself standing in front of the berth door of the Lost Light’s TIC. Ratchet had never been good at these things. Introductions. Goodbyes.Confessions. He had never been that great with words so he never tried to use them to express his feelings. As a doctor, he could show his patients how much he cared by being the best physician he could possibly be, not by telling them. Regardless of how nervous he was, Ratchet knew he had to act on the feeling deep within his spark that refused to go away. The orange medic nervously tapped in the access code and marched into Drift’s berthroom. 

 

“Hello Ratchet?” the medic was surprised to hear Rodimus’ voice instead of Drift’s. The young prime was standing close the samurai….incredibly close. Their servos were clasped and their helms barely touched. They had been in the middle of something and he had interrupted them. Ratchet was beginning to regret his decision to come. “Is there something that you needed pal because Drift and I are-”

 

“Yes, I can see you and Drift are busy and what I wanted isn’t important anymore. Goodbye.”

 

“Ratchet wait!” Drift spoke up as he began to shift away from Rodimus. “Rodimus and I were practically done talking an-”

 

Ratchet was already out of the berthroom before Drift could finish speaking. Ratchet couldn’t help but think that he had finally lost his processor. He avoided voicing his emotions for a reason. They always had a way of biting him in the aft.

 

__________________________________________________________________

 

<<I need to see you.>>

 

<<Can’t. I’m busy>>

  
  


<<That’s what you’ve said every time I’ve called you for the past week.>>

 

<<Yep. And every time you’ve called me in the past week I’ve been busy. ‘Bots have a way of hurting themselves around her in the craziest way. Two days ago Tailgate got stuck on one of Cyclonus’ horns. Please don’t ask me how that happened.>>

 

<<Rodimus and I need to see you Ratchet.>>

 

Well that didn’t make the old medic feel any better. Against his better judgment, Ratchet left his “busy” work and made his way towards the TIC’s room. He was grateful that a soft chair had been conveniently placed in the middle of Drift’s berthroom, because the sight of Drift and Rodimus’ exposed sparks made him fall flat on his aft.

 

“What the frag is going on here?” Ratchet asked in disbelief.

 

“Let me explain Drift,” Rodimus began. Drift gave Rodimus a small nod and the racecar immediately redirected his attention to Ratchet.

 

“We want to let you into our sparkbond.” Rodimus stated calmly.

 

“You WHAT!!!!” Ratchet exclaimed.”I didn’t even know you two were bonded!”

 

“I know and we’re sorry for keeping it from you and the crew. Drift and I talked this over, and after what has happened in the past couple of weeks we’ve decided that we want you in on our bond.” The young prime beamed joyfully at the medic who appeared as if he had just aged 20,000 years.

 

“Everything in life requires balance, and you balance us,” Drift replied coolly. “You inspire me when I am at my worst, you chastise Rodimus when he needs to be leveled headed, and Rodimus and I help you loosen up when you overwork yourself. We complete each other Ratchet, please consider-”

 

“Yes.” This was all that the medic ever wanted. It was surprising enough to know that one ‘bot truly cared about him, but two. Ratchet was ecstatic and he knew his face-plate was giving it away completely. He was so used to caring about other people that the very thought of someone else caring for him forced Ratchet to jump out of his seat and clasp the servos of the two bots that stood before him. “I know this is going to sound silly, especially coming from me. Please try not to laugh you two, I’m honestly too old for you youngsters to be surprising me like this but…. I love you both. I love you more than words can describe. I want to be with you always and I offer up the light of my spark to you, may you feel its warmth.”

 

“We love you too Ratchet,” Drift replied as he received the deep warmth of the medic’s spark.

 

“We really do.”

  
  
  


FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the memories. I loved all of your comments. Till next time.


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